


Mirrors.

by lavenderhoneymndes



Category: Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Body Dysphoria, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, References to Depression, body image issues, body issues, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25077088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderhoneymndes/pseuds/lavenderhoneymndes
Summary: Sometimes you just don't feel like yourself.
Relationships: Reader/Shawn Mendes, Shawn Mendes/Reader, Shawn Mendes/You
Kudos: 13





	Mirrors.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't for the faint of heart and honestly just started as a rant that I needed to get something off of my chest but I was asked to finish it so here it is!

You looked yourself in the mirror and tried to pinpoint things that you liked about yourself. But all you could do was pick yourself apart. Your hair wasn’t quite right. Your cheeks were too puffy and you didn’t have the sparkle in your eye like you see in everyone else. Instead, your eyes are just. Blank. Empty. Like there’s nothing behind them, and you so desperately want to find something, anything but there’s nothing. 

You do that often. Stare at yourself in the mirror. Usually after a shower. You’d stand there, towel wrapped around you, wipe the condensation off the mirror and just stare. Hoping that one day, something will change. That one day you’d see something worthy of…love. Some days you’d let the towel drop, pooling at your feet, and stare at your body. Trying to find something that was worthy of note. But all you did was pinch at yourself. Turning to the side trying to find an angle that made you feel less, gross. But you never could find it. Eventually, though you’d give up. Pick the towel up off the ground, dry the rest of your body, and get dressed for bed hoping that something will change in the morning. That you’ll feel less empty but you never do.

It’s been like that lately, and you don’t know when it started but….it didn’t seem like it was going to end. It felt like it was going to last forever. Not that you want that, you wish it would end. That you could find some kind of inner peace, whatever the hell that is. You’d do anything to find it. Crystals, yoga, meditation, fucking Keto. Whatever it was that meant that maybe, just maybe you could find just a spark of joy you were willing to do it. 

What it all came down to was that you felt alone. Like you didn’t have anything or anyone to turn to. Logically you know that’s not true. You do have one person. 

Shawn. 

You couldn’t understand it. You’d never understand why he chose you. What he saw that you couldn’t, and you wished you could. But something kept him there. Something kept him with you through the tough nights, when you didn’t want to be touched, and the times where you’d cry so hard, your eyes would nearly but swollen shut. He was there when you didn’t feel like speaking or eating, or even getting out of bed. He was there. 

He knew what you did in the bathroom. He’s caught you a few times, eyes locked on yourself, while you pinched at your side. But he didn’t say anything. He hated it. Hated seeing you hurting, and knowing there was nothing he could do about it. Sure he could offer your encouraging words, tell you how much he loved you. How much you meant to him, but that wouldn’t magically make you love yourself. It wouldn’t heal the deep wounds that have been with you for so long. But he was willing to try. 

“Honey, it’s been all day you should eat something.” He whispered, squatting down on your side of the bed so your face to face, his thumb rubbing circles on your cheek. 

“I’m not hungry,” you state robotically.

“I know you’re not, but you can’t go this long without eating. Please. For me?” he begs, eyes almost the most hurt you’d seen him in a while. That’s what gets you to agree. Because no matter how bad you felt, you hated making Shawn upset. You already feel enough guilt for bringing a dark cloud over his otherwise sunny life, you didn’t want to make it worse. 

He pushes back the covers for you to get up, extending a hand out for you, which you accept. You allow him to lead you to the kitchen, sitting you down at the bar, with a plate of your favorite dish and a glass of ice water. Shawn wasn’t the best cook, he could only really cook one thing but it was great and your favorite. Spaghetti. You’re not sure what he did to it that made it so good, but you could eat it every day if you could. Seeing it almost brought a smile to your face. Almost. 

“Thank you.” You say, picking up your fork and digging into the noodles. 

“Of course.” He takes a seat next to you, watching you eat more than actually eating himself. He doesn’t know it, but the act makes you anxious, but you don’t say anything. 

Much to Shawn’s satisfaction you nearly finish the whole plate before you’re standing up, shoving your hands in your hoodie pockets. 

“I’m going to go shower.” 

“Do you want me to join you?” he asks, setting down his fork. He didn’t want you to do your little routine, and he knew that if he were there with you you wouldn’t. All it ever did was make you feel worse, and he just wanted you to feel better. 

You think about it for a moment, and again it’s the sadness in Shawn’s eyes that gets you to agree.

“I’ll go run the shower, you clean up,” you say, turning your back, and trudging your way back into your shared bathroom. You’re not sure how, but he’s by your side in the bathroom in only a second. 

Slowly you strip yourself from your clothes, your back turned to Shawn. He’s seen you naked plenty of times before, but you’re feeling extra vulnerable. Extra exposed. You’re only slightly annoyed that you can’t do your little ritual, but you know it’s probably for the best. You know it’s not healthy, to begin with but it’s just a routine, and you hate breaking your routine. 

You step into the shower first, letting the warm water hit your body, and it calmed you. He followed in soon after closing the shower door behind him. He doesn’t wrap his arms around your waist like he usually would, he knows better than that when you’re in one of these moods, but he does place his hands on your shoulders, massaging a bit, and you lull your head back onto his shoulder. You didn’t realize just how tense you were. 

“Thank you.” 

“Mhmm.” he hums kiss the side of your head down onto your shoulder. 

He washes your hair for you, and you’re grateful, it had started to look unruly and you enjoyed the massage of your scalp. It eased the tension of what felt like a never-ending headache. When you’re all bathed and shampooed, he helps you out of the shower, being extra cautious of keeping his eyes on yours, not wanting you to get in your head, and derail any progress he feels you’ve made. Not wanting you to get back in your head about things that Shawn didn’t care about, but you couldn’t help but obsess over. He tossed you one of his t-shirts that smelled like him and a pair of his sweats, knowing that it always calmed you being in his clothes. He lifted the covers on your side of the bed, becoming you under them until he slipped into his own side, bringing you to his chest, kissing the top of your head. 

“Honey, I know what I say may not make a difference, but I love you. So much.” 

“I know.” You say with a sigh, holding back tears. “I love you too. Thank you.” 

“For what baby?”

“Not leaving me.” you whimper out, unable to keep your tears in any longer. 

“Shh..it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, I’m here.” he whispers planting soft kisses to the back of your neck.

And he means it. He’ll never let you go. 


End file.
